


Snowy Bliss (But Make It Lucifer)

by mothergayselle



Category: Obey Me, Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Sexual Humor, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothergayselle/pseuds/mothergayselle
Summary: a re-telling of the 'snowy bliss' devilgram story, except the ending is with lucifer and MC is *spicy*
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Snowy Bliss (But Make It Lucifer)

**Author's Note:**

> it didn't feel right to use 'OC' as OC's title so the OC's name is Freya (on purpose)

Being kidnapped to the Devildom had been nothing but inconvenient to Freya for a long time. For one, there was the lack of edible food. The demonic diet was all innocent creatures and poisonous vegetables, things that still squirmed while on the plate. 

Not to mention, the only other human there was a terrible cook. How does one actually set soup on fire? Couldn’t he use his magic to not be a shit chef?

Thank _god_ for Barbatos and his thousands of years of experience. It was so expensive and far too troublesome to import things like _Cheetos_ and ramen from the human world. Once they all realized she was starving -- sneaking Beel her portions so as to not attract attention -- Lucifer and Diavolo had compromised on a special meal plan for the duration of her stay there. In return, Freya tried her best to sample the local dishes that didn’t look like they’d biologically dissolve her insides.

Then there was the… total and complete severance from the normal, natural course of her human life, as well as a unique lack of therapists in the Devildom. 

Thankfully, Freya had only needed to explain the abrupt transition from graduate school to a “back-packing trip through Europe” with her best friend so she could “find herself” to her mother; her family was a broken game of telephone, which under normal circumstances was unfortunate and traumatizing, whereas now it was downright convenient and maybe even life-saving.

However, despite all of the difficulty and the bamboozling and the _fresh_ trauma, there were, admittedly, gems of light which gleamed underneath all of that. One of these bonuses was her assigned dorm room at RAD, which was way, _way_ better than the one given to her at graduate school. 

The bedroom was spacious, perfumed, and lush with vines and wildflowers of various species. The small, foreign blossoms never withered no matter how much time passed -- a spell performed before her arrival, perhaps. Compared to Levi’s room, with its neon lighting and aquarium aesthetic, or to Mammon’s, a perfect replica of a car garage, Freya was more than thankful for the lodgings. 

She suspected that they’d furnished such a chamber in what could pass for a half-hearted attempt to make up for the sudden interruption of her life. Frankly, it was more than deserved. Especially because no matter how beautiful or extravagant or tailored to her personal interests (seriously, had Diavolo and Barbatos stalked her Pinterest profile before nabbing her?) the room was and never _had_ been… private.

“Freya! Are you awake?”

Freya groaned into the pillow. Usually it was Mammon who busted in unannounced, half-cocked, guns-a-blazing. Most of the guys had seen her half-naked by now. It was clear that no one had ever taught them how to knock in the Celestial Realm. 

Honestly, she should just ask Lucifer for a door-stopper. It wouldn’t do to leave the Devildom with holes in the wall. Stupid demons were too strong for their own good.

Freya let her eyes adjust to the darkness as she stirred, bunching the covers around her before sitting up entirely. A few candles still smoldered on the shelves above her bed, nestled beside spelled moss and ivy. Their warm glow enhanced the light and shadow conjoining on the curves of the intruder’s face. He was beautiful. There was no denying it. Beautifully, gracefully, stunningly bothersome.

Asmodeus stood in the doorway, two porcelain mugs in hand, excitement etched into his eyes and cheekbones like a newborn puppy. A very sexual, very deviant puppy. He wasn’t here for that, was he?

“I can’t sleep,” he whined, closing the door with his heel. Asmo gave Freya a once-over… well, _twice_ -over, and waited as she fixed the hair that’d fell into her face. Delightful. Nothing was uncomfortable about being disheveled in the presence of a hot demi-god. Demi-demon. No, actual demon. Whatever.

“What?” she snapped when she saw he was glaring. She took the mug from his extended hand. “Not pretty enough for you?”

“You’re always pretty, Freya. It’s that abomination of a sweatshirt that offends me.”

Asmo’s voice, ever so sweet, sounded odd with the criticism. Made the jabs more pointy. Freya sighed -- it didn’t matter what she wore. Asmo never approved of her choices anyway.

“ _Varsity Swim-Team?_ Why does it mention swimming? Is that some rare, human attribute? Are you all terrible swimmers? And what is that font? Why does it have to be so… in your face? Ugh, it’s so clunky and random.”

Upon a quick sniff, Freya was delighted to detect the familiar scent of hot chocolate. Nothing blood or bile related… for once. 

“Before Diavolo and Lucifer lovingly snatched me away from my life, I was on my school’s swim team,” she mumbled. She was surprised to see Asmodeus earnest in his expression, as if he was actually listening to her, as if he cared about the exposition.

“I was good.” 

Why did she say that? So lame. 

“Of course you were, sweetheart!” His head tilted with a smile, which she returned. 

“If you want, I can try to punish Lucifer for taking you away from something you obviously loved.” He paused. “Well, I could probably con Mammon into doing it. He owes me.”

Freya rolled her eyes at impossible offer. They both knew Lucifer would beat the offender senseless. Still. Flirt.

Asmo eyed the spot near her legs, at the edge of the mattress. “Can I sit next to you?”

That was the good thing about Asmodeus. Contrary to popular opinion, Freya had always found it easy to be around this particular demon. At least with him, his intentions were always clear, the agenda laid out, mitigating any vague, predatory guess-work she would normally have to do with a man. 

The other best thing about him was his need for consent. Was he constantly fantasizing about her stripping naked whenever they spent time together? Sure he was! Would he ever try to have sex with her without asking though? Nah.

And, if one was being honest, it wasn’t like she didn’t fantasize about him either. He didn’t need demonic magic to be alluring.

She was still tired despite the beverage, her mind warped and fuzzy at the edges. She found herself patting the space beside her though. Asmo grinned, joy drawing out the dimples near his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ for the hot chocolate.”

They spent a few moments in silence, sipping from their mugs with soft, gentle noises. What time was it anyway? Midnight? Later than that? 

In the human world, men approached booty calls with a singular text: _u up?_ Maybe hot chocolate wasn’t so bad in comparison. At least she knew she wasn’t in danger-- 

Man… the bar was low.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, warm and flushed from the drink. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the room’s lowlight. With the room’s magical flora in his background, Asmodeus looked radiant. Born straight from the blossoms. “You said you couldn’t sleep?”

Asmo’s lower lip jutted out in response; Freya willed herself not to stare. 

“No. It’s too cold in my room. It’s snowing outside, did you see?”

“I didn’t actually, because _I was sleeping_.”

She couldn’t help but smile as his eyes narrowed, scrunching into a glower. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.”

“That’s better,” Asmo said, lips twisting up. “I just hate the cold so much. I can’t sleep when it’s like this.”

“Me too. Hence, the sheet, blanket, and two comforters I asked Lucifer for.” She gestured at the mountain of fabric bunched around her waist. “Doesn’t help that you guys don’t have summer here, nevermind a working sun.” 

She also wasn’t about to mention his pajamas and how they did absolutely nothing to shield his body from the weather -- a silk, button down shirt only half-way buttoned and thin, fitted joggers. Any mention of his clothes would sidetrack the conversation indefinitely, and if she tried to offer her own sweatshirts, Asmo would be disgusted. So ridiculous.

He was polite as he plucked the mug from her hand, setting them both on the floor when drained. The _tinkling_ of the porcelain bubbled on her head like champagne. ASMR. So tired.

A shudder zipped down her limbs when she felt Asmo tuck a few strands of hair out of her face. Her lids were impossible to keep open when she was this warm and cozy. 

“Sorry I woke you up,” he said, cocking his head to the side. The straight line of his nose framed his mouth so symmetrically... which was she supposed to look at?

“I could go now or…” His amber eyes momentarily darted away from her gaze. Huh. Interesting.

She was going to regret asking, she knew it. “Or what?”

He was waiting for that, of course. The abashment, the hot chocolate... all a plot. If there was anything Asmo paid attention to, it was the things people found pleasure in. For Freya, that meant food. Human food. And video games, but those weren’t really his specialty. Food was an easier access point.

Joy illuminated the depths of his face at her prompt, brightening the tug of his fine, cut jawline, which curled with a grin.

“Or, I could sleep with you?”

There it was. So expected, so Asmo.

“Sure. Hop in.”

“ _Huh_?” The joy in his face was replaced with instant, urgent shock. “Really?”

“Yes, idiot. Get in.” 

Asmo’s mouth popped open. Freya, meanwhile, scooted over, peeling open the blankets enough for him to slip inside. His joining was respectful and he laid on his side, one arm folded beneath his head.

Her eyes were closed by the time he was settled, hair scattered over the bumps of her cheeks and nose. He fixed it into place again, and his fingers, caressing her temple, caused her to hum. 

“I thought you would need a little more convincing than that.”

“You _think?_ That’s new.” A squeak wriggled free from her throat when he poked her nose.

The pillows at RAD were obscenely luxurious. Freya, much like a cat, nuzzled one with her cheek. Would they let her take it home?

“No sex,” she murmured. “Despite your ludicrous, outrageous good looks. Can’t.”

The wickedness was palpable even with her eyes closed. It was an ocean of trouble, eroding at the side of her face. 

“Oh?” he teased. “I see no reason why not. Are you terrified you’ll fall for me, Freya? Understandable. I’d be scared as well.” 

She vibrated with laughter. “Well, for one, I’m half asleep, and two, I need to keep playing hard to get. Make you boys work for it. I only get a year here. Got to make it count.”

Even comatose, Freya could feel his sharp intake of breath. She smiled, knowing that she’d surprised him yet again. She loved the power that brought. So yummy.

His breath washed over the space between their faces, warming it further. “Truth be told, I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t tease at least three of us into submission by the end of the semester.”

“Mmm, four.”

“Really? How certain of you.”

Their subsequent giggles shook the covers. If there was only Asmodeus, Freya might’ve indulged. 

In the human realm, casual affairs weren’t uncommon for her. But the boys vying for her attention in the Devildom were all brothers. It didn’t matter how fun it was to play with them; hurting people’s feelings never felt good, and you’d be a dick to hurt that many people at once. 

Plus, as attractive as Asmo was -- and he was unquestionably Adonis made manifest, basically God himself, but…

“Mmmf... and don’t tell Lucifer. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. It would ruin everything.”

 _“Everything?”_

Freya felt Asmo stiffen beside her, sensed how his head must have pulled away so he could glare again. The absence of his breath indicated so. 

“Are you saying you want _him_ over _me_?”

She had to. They resisted, but she had to open her eyes and see the envy on his face... drink it all in. Freya commanded her eyelids to open against their will. 

Y e p. He was, indeed, angry. Delicious. His eyes blazed in the candlelight, causing the tangerine flecks in them to churn like a witch’s brew. Two miniature sun-stars phosphorescent with blame and jealousy.

“Why are you thinking about someone else with me _right here_ in your bed next to you? Wearing very thin clothes, I might add! After spoiling you with your human drink!?” His forehead crumpled with animosity.

“Am I not enough for you?”

 _So_ adorable when jealous. It was too much. The urge to seize and kiss him better rippled along the part of her brain that was stupid, so she smushed it down. 

If she kissed him, then they’d have sex. And if they had sex, all of the teasing and denial and piety over the last few months would amount to nothing. No, the stakes were too high for that. She had a reputation to uphold!

How annoying.

“Don’t be angry,” Freya whined, fitting herself to him. “You’re the only one I want here with me, I promise!”

\--Which was definitely true. It was gratifying to have someone so devoted to her, even if it was temporary and a total byproduct of his self-serving, narcissistic, demonic nature. Despite his eternal, incessant libidinousness, he was a good friend and a nice comfort. 

Swells of heat and bliss sunk into her skin at the contact. Chest to chest, legs entangled, faces partitioned by very little air… Asmodeus relaxed himself immediately and pulled her closer. 

He was _so_ easy.

“AwWw,” Asmo sang. He tucked her head beneath his chin. “You’re too cute to stay mad at! I won’t let you love anyone else more than you love me though. I mean, how could that be possible anyway?” His voice pulsed over the crown of her head, ruffling the curls there. 

His skin, his shirt, his hair; they all smelled so good it was obscene. Was that rose mixed with apple? She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the aroma. 

Definitely rose. Maybe a little lavender… and yes, that was apple. She wondered how expensive it must have been to buy. Maybe, if she was nice enough, if she appealed to his gigantic, bottomless ego, he'd offer a matching bottle. 

The thought of Lucifer smelling it on her was tantalizing to imagine. He’d immediately identify the scent as one of Asmo’s. What would he think? That she and Asmo were together? That he was showering her with gifts and trinkets? … Would it make _him_ want to buy her gifts and trinkets? 

Lucifer would never admit to that of course, but little did he know that Freya considered pride to be the biggest of _her_ sins. Truly, the extent of her pigheadedness was astounding. It’d all made her past relationships... interesting. 

“You _do_ love me, right, Freya?”

Speaking of…

“Yes, Asmo,” she said, words melting in the exhale. “I love you. You are the peanut-butter to my jelly. The mac to my cheese. The Edward to my Bella. Happy now?”

She grinned as he squeezed her in his arms. “I have absolutely no idea what any of those things are, but it _does_ make me happy. And I love you too!”

“Oh good. You hadn’t said so today. I was beginning to get worried.”

“... Just because I’m the demon of lust doesn’t mean I can’t pick up on sarcasm, you know.”

“Really? Wow. Never would have guessed.”

The cavern of their bodies under the blankets baked the gap like a supernova. The promise of inky, restorative, tantalizing slumber attacked her, stole her senses away, and Freya pressed her lips to his collarbone before burrowing her head back into place.

“I’m going to sleep, Asmo. Are you okay now? Warmer?”

“Mhm. I’m very warm now. You’re so comfortable, Freya.” Asmodeus’s fingers danced along the length of her spine, pressing into each vertebrae. She sighed, content. 

“One more thing.”

noooooooo. 

“Did you know that the name _Freya_ comes from the Norse goddess of _love_ and _beauty_?” he whispered into her hair. Even his breath smelled perfumed. Would it taste like that if she kisse--

Nope. Hard stop.

“Satan told me he’d read about it in a human book. I personally think the name fits you well. What do you think?”

She _harrumphed_ . “Well, let me see. Did you know that _Freya_ was also the goddess of war?”

Asmo flinched as she drove a fist into his side. Playfully, of course, not nearly enough to cause pain, but… hard enough. 

“Ooh,” he purred, twisting his ankles in hers. “Do it again.”

“Goodnight, Asmo.”

“You know, for a human, you’re awfully audacious to hit a demon like that. I could _devour_ your soul and not think twice about it. Or worse, rip it out of your body and _feed it to Beel_ . Make a _feast_ out of it. Eat one corner at a tim--”

“ _Goodnight_ , Asmo.”

<\--------------------------------------------x------------------------------------------------>

  
  
  


“HEY!”

Unghh?

“WHAT THE HELL IS _THIS?”_

Son 

of 

a 

bitch.

“Hey, Asmo! Don’t ignore me. I know you can hear what I’m sayin’!”

Sleep-in Saturday mornings, who? Didn’t know her. 

Honest to god. Most of the time, when Freya wasn’t changing, doing schoolwork, or… _you know…_ the barging in was all fine and well. Remembering how temporary her time here was often a source of panic for Freya. 

She was just supposed to go back to normal after it all? Continue on, live her life, never see the guys ever again? Never stay up all night with Levi, playing video games, or indoor-camp with Satan? Never sprint through the streets of the city with Mammon because he’d done something stupid and they had to run for their lives? Never hear the sound of Lucifer punching one of them in the head for being disrespectful? Eh, these thoughts made her sick.

One thing however, that she would never _ever_ miss, was the interruption of her rest. 

“Mammon, could you keep it down?” Asmo muttered. “Some of us are trying to _sleep_ here.”

Mammon’s voice was a cannon. “Yeah, that’s my POINT, asshole. Why are you in _Freya’s_ bed!?”

Blegh. Diavolo had mentioned how the exchange program was to “enrich” relations between the three realms. He didn’t mention how loud that enriching could be. If Mammon didn’t cool it soon, Lucifer was bound to hear. Oh god. She had to talk him down now.

“He was cold, Mammon,” Freya said. Forcing herself upright, she began to rub the sleep from her eyes. “... Which _is_ as cliche as it sounds, yes.”

Asmo squinted his eyes at all the noise. “Mammon, if you want to sleep with Freya too, all you have to do is ask. Didn’t take much persuading in the first place.”

“Hey, out of the two of us, who’s the _actual_ whore here?” she yelled, swatting at him. Lucifer be damned. 

Asmo took the hit and smirked. His eyelashes were velvet curtains fluttering in the wind.

Freya returned her gaze to Mammon. His fury beamed through the blur in her vision, stabbing outwards from his blue-gold gaze and into the both of them. Thankfully, most of his anger -- and dirty looks -- seemed to be directed at Asmo, who was stubbornly trying to go back to sleep beside her. 

Mammon’s face spasmed once Freya shook Asmo, his gaze viciously attuned to the image of her palms connecting with Asmo’s bare chest. She suppressed a smile.

“Hey, get up.”

Asmo scowled, bringing a hand to his face. “Demon, remember? I could _eat_ you.”

“Do it then, wuss. Bet you won’-----”

“Asmo, I’m gonna give you three seconds before I haul your ass out of _Freya’s_ bed. One--”

“Ugh, Mammon. Go away.”

_“Two.”_

Freya watched happily while twisting her hair into a bun. She loved a good man-fight.

“Thr--”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get up now. Sheesh. You’re worse than Lucifer.”

Asmo groaned as he shoved the covers off, exposing his naked, gleaming, too-near-to-Freya, chest to the morning’s light. Mammon’s face tightened even further, and he grit his teeth.

“And put on some _clothes_ you sex fiend. Wait.”

Shock froze all of the movement out of his body. Freya blinked as he focused on her.

“You two… didn’t… yanno… right?” Blood rushed into his cheeks and neck. Freya grinned. 

“We didn’t. All we did--”

“--Is something secret you’ll never know about. Filthy degenerate.” 

Asmo proceeded to primp his hair, taking extra care to fluff out the fringe until it curled into his eyes. Freya forced herself to look anywhere else; Asmo simply preening himself should not have had the effect it did. 

Um… back to Mammon! Preferably, before he wrecked the room. The expression on his face was bombs and explosions and this was all so much. She hadn’t even had her coffee yet. Freya sighed, massaging the back of her neck with a hand. 

“Ignore him. What do you need, Mammon?”

The sudden change in countenance left his face blushed. His poor veins, blood rushing in and out and all about.

As Asmo eventually oozed off the bed, stretching out his joints -- which, inadvertently, tugged his silk shirt in exciting directions; not that Freya was paying attention -- Mammon avoided looking in his brother’s direction entirely. His stare bore into Freya’s with the obvious intent to not think about _anything_ Asmo had just implied. 

“It just snowed tons and tons, so we’re gonna have a snowball fight,” he said. Childlike enthusiasm lifted his face. The baby-blues ignited with warmth. “Come join!” 

“No way,” Asmo said from his side of the room. “It’s too cold for that. I mean, think of your skin! Think of _my_ skin! Who knows what the air would do to it!” 

The smile on Mammon’s face faltered the tiniest bit, but he managed to keep it on by sheer force of will. “You’re comin’ with, right _Freya?”_

Urgh. The cold. The four, heavy, inviting blankets on her bed screamed in defiance. It was difficult -- she thought of how toasty it’d been in Asmo’s embrace, asleep, swaddled into oblivion by the comfort of a warmth, enticing cape…

… and then came the thought of a snowball fight -- wet, freezing rain sloshing on her clothes, down her chest, _wetting the inside her socks_ … 

“Yeah, I’m in.”

Mammon cheered the exact moment Asmo’s face crumpled with disbelief.

“All right! Woohoo! I’ll see you in ten.” He flashed a grin, triumphant, before stalking out of her room. Asmo remained unacknowledged. Freya flicked her eyes to him.

“I had to. How can you say no to Mammon when he’s so hopeful like that?”

“By _crushing_ that hope out of his system, Freya,” Asmo complained. He ran his fingers through the gold of his hair, annoyance tightening the delicate curves of his face. “Ugh. I don’t know why you’re so easy on him. All he cares about is himself and what _he_ wants.”

Freya’s eyebrow was a boat that sailed to the top of her forehead. Asmo peeked through his hair, curious to see what was keeping her quiet.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

The words refused to dignify themselves. Hmph. Wasn't a trillion year-old demon supposed to be more self-aware?

“Okay,” she said, finally springing off the mattress. She gestured towards the door.

“Get out. I have to get dressed for this thing, and so do you. You’re coming with me.”

Conflicting emotions cracked across Asmo’s face. Annoyance -- at her for agreeing to the snowball fight while also forcing him to join. Glee -- at the prospect of spending more time with her, time which probably could allow for some physical contact. Annoyance -- again. 

“It’s going to be rough, so layer up,” Freya said. With a frown, she shuffled to the elegant, wooden dresser in the far back of the room and yanked a few drawers open. “Prepare clothing for afterwards too. You’re going to want to change as soon as you get back in your room.”

“ _Ugh_.”

“I know, I know, now get out!” Freya called, chuckling a bit. “The sooner we get there, the sooner it’s over. And just think. You’ll get to chuck stuff at Mammon’s face. Isn’t that a good thing?”

A tendril of something agreeable -- curiosity, perhaps -- slithered from Asmo, tangibly filling the room with its possibilities. It was sparkling, churning static upon her shoulder blades.

“Yeah... that could work for me.” He sounded distracted, as if lost in the idea of revenge.

The room was inert with a lack of movement as Asmo remained, doing… whatever, while she sifted through her clothes.

“... Get _out_ , Asmo! God. Why do you guys never listen to me when I speak?” She continued to rumble through her dresser for something snow-proof. There was nothing, and she growled.

“Might as well go naked. There’s nothing that’ll be warm enough.”

“Mmm, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Asmo drawled behind her.

He was too slow for the balled up sweater she launched at his head. “Hey!”

“GET OUT.”

<\--------------------------------------------x------------------------------------------------>

  
  


When they’d stolen her from the human world, couldn’t they have brought more of her wardrobe? The essentials were provided by RAD -- her school uniform, warm-ups with the royal crest on it, _one_ jacket for outerwear, socks… but that was hardly enough for winter storms. Especially for someone who could never get warm in the first place.

Freya suspected that it was Barbatos who’d been tasked with the job of collecting her things from the dormroom. Poor guy. If they’d just _informed_ her of her kidnapping ahead of time, she would’ve been more prepared! God.

Honestly, it was such a con. A capitalist trap forcing her to spend Grimm on the things they hadn’t bothered to include. Whatever. After a few months of working side jobs and shifts at the Hell House -- now _that_ was Hell; there was no need for fire and brimstone when you could just work with that manager -- her dresser was filled with enough. 

But, NOTHING FOR SNOWSTORMS.

She wondered what she looked like, passing through the hallways of the House of Lamentation. One extra scarf and a pair of fuzzy socks were what she had to layer on before the snow-fight, so there she was, bracelets of snow sparkling in her hair -- until it melted and seeped down her neck… wet spots on her thighs and butt where snow had saturated the fabric, which was Beel’s fault, because he was the one who’d tackled her to the ground. Mammon lost his shit of course, but she’d only laughed until she couldn’t breathe, and then Satan was there, pulling her up again.

Asmo did better than she expected, allowing the fine, silk curls of his hair to detangle as he attempted to shield Freya from incoming snow-bombs. Truth be told, _he_ was the one who’d needed the shielding, but Freya didn’t want to ruin his hero complex just for the sake of being correct. Well, she did want to ruin it, but didn’t. Progress.

It was sweet. And was definitely a respite from all of the late nights spent studying or gaming or sleuthing around the city, stalking Solomon and the angels alongside Mammon just to see what they did in their free time. 

Which a lot of grocery shopping. Hideously boring. Freya was determined to catch Solomon doing something devious, however. Black magic, forbidden necromancy, skinning newborn kittens for fun… that sort of thing. She just _knew_ there was something off about him. Indeed, time would tell.

“You’re dripping on the carpet.”

Ah, shit.

How is it that such a simple, declarative statement could sound so accusatory?

She was just about to round the corner to where her room was when Lucifer had come strutting from the other side. Wasn’t there a saying in the human world about how car crashes were most likely to happen within a few miles of your house? Close enough.

And sure enough, when she looked behind her, there was a small, beaded trail of water left behind, coiling in smooth, unbroken intervals just like a serpent. Freya breathed in through her nose and pivoted, coming face to face with Lucifer once more.

“Have you come to punish me?”

The words themselves were suggestive, but she was tired, and they hadn’t come out any more playful than usual. There was a slight widening of his eyes, and then the heavy-lidded look, which meant he’d recovered from the shock. Burgundy eyes tinkled behind his lashes.

“Perhaps if you were one of my brothers,” he mused. One side of his mouth tugged itself into a smirk, and his eyes fixed themselves on her hair. 

“I would suggest however, that you change and slip into something a little warmer. Something to suggest you don’t live in the sea and wear jewelry made of fish-bones.”

Freya tilted her head. “Are you implying I look like a sea-witch?”

“Well, that certainly would account for Mammon and Asmo’s obsession with you.”

“Ha. Ha.” She pulled a strand of melted snow from her hair and chucked the water at him. Lucifer frowned. There was a small splatter on his turtleneck where it’d landed. 

“You know what else lives by the sea?” she asked, running a hand through the curls by her temples. “Sirens. And they eat men.”

A pang of satisfaction bloomed in her stomach as his frown twitched not once, but twice, until it reluctantly warped into a smile. Not a smirk, but not a grin either. She was close.

Conversation with Lucifer called for much more deliberation than the others. It was far more difficult to elicit positive reinforcement from him, but she liked that. Not that she didn’t appreciate how freely his brothers shared their sentiments, but sometimes it was just nice to _play._

There were some days where she didn’t flirt at all. At times, the withholding of a thing was almost as efficient as giving it. There were moments where Freya had caught Lucifer off-guard, because he’d expected her wit or sass, but all he received was a blank stare, a polite dismissal. 

But then, the next time they were together, if the occasion called for warm smiles and a quick touch on the shoulder, that was what he’d get!

It was _fun_ because Lucifer was in on it. He was the Avatar of Pride. He _knew_ what she was doing but was too prideful to say anything himself, because he knew if he did, it would count as a surrender. A submission. A break in their meta. Lucifer would rather take beach-selfies with Asmodeus than admit defeat.

A girl could always hope though.

“Well, you better hope your lineage comes from Greece because demons, my dear, eat _humans.”_ Freya’s eyes were drawn to his arms as Lucifer folded them over his chest. 

“Especially when they’re mouthy.”

It was starting to get cold, with all of the standing around and the bantering -- her clothes were soggy and she was no longer flush from exercise. The marble bath blinked into her mind’s eye. She could fill it with perfume and bubbles and purple dye, to make it look nice while she soaked like a fairy princess…

“Want to bathe with me?”

!!!

Lucifer’s arms spasmed, and his eyes squeezed together, scrutinizing every inch of her expression. Freya resisted the urge to wink at him. That’d be too far, too obvious.

A shiver of cold sliced through her body and she trembled. His gaze was attentive to this as well, traveling along her body. The tension around his eyes and mouth softened as she continued to shake, and instead, a more gentle kind of stress bubbled there, prompting the brows together, close-knit.

Concern.

“I just thought I’d offer,” she said, unwinding her scarf. Half-dead piles of snow sloughed to the ground, and the tenderness in Lucifer’s gaze momentarily withered. “Since everyone is so determined to see me naked nowadays... you know, equal opportunity and such.” 

Thin, spider-web lines of black energy began to collect around Lucifer’s shoulders and he loomed forward.

He pronounced each word slowly, carefully. 

“Do I need to have a talk with my brothers?” Darkness rumbled in his voice like ash, and the angry web of energy danced around his head like a reverse halo.

This specific aura normally popped out before he was about to hit one of his brothers, but alas… no demon in sight. Freya set her jaw, forcing her teeth not to chatter as she froze to death. 

“Oh, relax. We both know that if any of them succeeded, they’d shrivel up and die. You guys may have your demon-final forms, yet somehow, the mere mention of my nudity is enough to give y'all heartburn.” 

Freya grinned, raking her eyes over Lucifer from top to bottom. Very Asmo-esque.

“Well, most of you.”

A silent victory fanfare thundered in her mind. The grim, blackened aura winked out of existence and suddenly there was Lucifer, a proud and ancient tower, grinning back at her.

Success.

“Be that as it may, I won’t have my brothers trying to turn the academy into a brothel.” Freya’s eyes were drawn low. Lucifer kneeled, and a caress of cold bit her cheek. It took her a moment to realize that he’d flicked some of the snow she’d dripped onto the floor at her face.

“Diavolo would hardly be pleased, and I will not allow anything to disrupt the success of the exchange program.” 

Freya didn’t move to wipe the ice-flakes away. “Too bad,” she said, slinking towards Lucifer. His wicked lips curled at the advance.

“A brothel sounds kind of nice right now. Warm too.” 

And then, at the last possible inch, Freya diverted away from him altogether and headed once again for her room. She wasn’t able to see Lucifer’s expression behind her, but hoped it was everything she could ever imagine it to be. 

“Let me know if you change your mind about that bath,” she called into the air.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
